


I know I could lie (they're looking for magic)

by thescyfychannel



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, F/M, Flirting, Humanstuck, M/M, Multi, Witch Hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22230109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescyfychannel/pseuds/thescyfychannel
Summary: feat. one incredibly experience witch hunter who's got a pretty good idea of how to handle a coven like this
Relationships: Rose Lalonde/Roxy Lalonde/Orphaner Dualscar/Dave Strider/Dirk Strider
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16
Collections: Polyswap Winter Promptfest - Dusk Edition





	I know I could lie (they're looking for magic)

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [liasangria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liasangria/pseuds/liasangria) in the [Polyswap_Winter_Promptfest_Dusk_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Polyswap_Winter_Promptfest_Dusk_2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> orphaner dualscar: seasoned witch hunter. 
> 
> the strilonde coven: infamous and wily witches who are also very sexy and very into seducing witch hunters to avoid being hanged. 
> 
> (note: i use "witch" as a gender neutral term in this context)

You're attempting to keep your expression straight as the tallest one leans over you, a move perfectly calculated to show off the fine lines of his throat, the soft silk of his hair, the bright orange of his eyes—it's cute, to be sure, but you've seen better from far more seasoned witches than him.

Then again.

This is the first time such seduction has been backed by a similarly towheaded trio of gorgeous witches. They're a foursome all on their own (you've had foursomes, sure, but you're pretty sure this is approaching orgy territory), and you've got a couple of questions about how exactly they intend for this to work.

"More tea?" This is the elegant one, shortest of the coven, and it's only when she speaks that you notice—the tall one is still leaning over you, close enough for you to feel the heat of his skin. "Dirk, really. Our guest—"

"Looks uncomfortable!" The excited one cuts in, and you take a note of the fondly exasperated looks the other witches trade over top of their head. "If you want a better chair, you can totally share this _love_ seat with me."

You think this has gone on long enough. "I think this has gone on long enough," you say, propping your elbows up on your knees, setting yourself up as the perfect picture of an intimidating witch hunter. "The four of you know exactly why I'm here."

"Sure we do, Sir DILF," drawls the last one, cocky in a way you haven't seen since your days in training, "but the question is, why _exactly_ did you walk right into our house and take dear, sweet Rosie Posie Puddin-and-Pie up on her offer for tea and crumpets?"

You're going to ignore about eighty percent of what he's just said, and from the moderately aggrieved sigh that follows his words, you think you're making the sane decision. "Because everyone in the land knows the type of coven you are at this point, and there's only one way to deal with that kind of behaviour."

"Ah," Dirk says, and you'll give the four of them this, they're certainly well-designed for the types of distractions they use, "so you're here to counter our usual tactics? Fuck us into submission, something like that?"

You're a seasoned witch hunter. You've dealt with far worse than them, and you've done so with a degree of style and class absent from most others in your trade.

You should _not_ feel the burn of a blush creeping up the back of your neck, turning your ears and cheeks a hopefully becoming shade of red.

From the predatory curl of lips, a smirk repeated four times over, it's becoming enough to suit.

"Suppose so," you drawl, ignoring the consternation in the back of your mind. They're not supposed to come out and say it like that, in voices that make even the crudest of words sound like sweet angel song. You've dealt with witches before; this is not how witches are.

At least. This is not how witches are with _you_.

"Then again," you say, while they're focused on smirking at one another, celebrating their supposed little victory over the big, bad, hunter they'd apparently like to fuck, "I'm not entirely sure you could handle that."

Here's something you've learned about witches: They are as prideful as cats, each and every one of them, and twice as likely to change their mind midway through a thought. True, you've met steadfast witches, who stuck to their convictions all the way through, but you've also met cats that could easily been mistaken for dogs, and that inborn pride they carried with them—witches and cats alike—never seemed to change.

So basically, you've just thrown down a gauntlet that they're absolutely certain to pick up.

The Strilondes stalk towards you with a certain kind of feline grace (see? cats, all of them) to each movement they make, their odd-coloured eyes locked on the smug expression you're wearing.

Actually, you think they might be slightly offended by the way you're sipping delicately from their fine china, refusing to set your tea aside until you're completely done with it—and you're proven right when the first flicker of magic you see from them is a flash of red that transports your teacup right out of your hands and leaves it spinning in its saucer.

"That's no way to treat a guest," you say, your tone reproving and your mind very aware of the way it makes your voice sound. Sometimes you quite _enjoy_ being the hottest piece of witch hunter ass around.

Then you've got a lap full of the pink-eyed one, and you're _really_ enjoying that status.

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from OneRepublic's "Wherever You Go"
> 
> also, this...might end up having another chapter. no idea yet.


End file.
